Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot behind this story.
Parings: Lateship of Bw/Hp for sure right now.
Story Warning: Slash in later chapters. Shady Dumbledore, history, corporal punishment, snaky/comical Snape and teen shenanigans. Rated 'NR-17' for later chapters.
Authoress Note: Story is part of my personal Midsummer's Eve Rush Challenge. See profile for further details.
Chapter Warnings: There is a spot in the story where muggle money is said in 'euros', 'notes' and 'coins'. I don't like the use of 'Pound/pounds'. See Profile for further important notes.
Beta Reader: Shattered Relampago, thank you dar.
The Craft
Part One: Summer of '95
Chapter One: California Dreaming
All the leaves are brown
And the sky is grey
Ive been for a walk
On a winters day
Id be safe and warm
If I was in L. dreamin
On such a winter's day
~Mamas & Papas
His life began during the summer of '95. Before that point in time, he had been merely surviving. It had not even been a full two days at his relatives' home before he had the first and last row of the summer with his Uncle Vernon. Insult Harry, fine, insult his pseudo family, you're in serious trouble. Harry's magic pulsed out of him and rushed through the house like a shock wave, toasting all of the electrical appliances within the household. It was in the very seconds after his show of rage that a simple thought floated through his mind.
He had to leave.
It was simple as that. Not because he feared his relatives reactions to the magical outburst. If anything they would've stayed even farther away from him than ever. No, it was the simple fact that if he stayed another day in Little Whinging, Surrey he was sure he would have killed the latter part of the population, and thus exposing himself to Voldemort. Even if his enemy was indisposed at the moment didn't mean his death eaters would be so idle. Bella would have been happy enough to take it upon herself to make his life a living hell even more so than she had less than two weeks ago.
He remembered stepping back from his uncle then bolting up the stairs. He remembered grabbing an old rucksack and throwing everything of importance into it. He could buy another trunk and his books were from last year, but he did throw one or two of them in there anyway. He remembered yanking the desk drawer open and feeling around for the stash of muggle notes and coins kept hidden in there, saving money from outings to the store along with leftovers from his exchange trips to Gringotts. Shoving the crumpled notes into his jean pocket he turned to Hedwig and opened her cage, letting her loose. He remember murmuring soft cooing words to her then ordering her to stay with Ron until he came for her.
He watched her until she became a small dot on the horizon of gray tiled roof tops.
Harry had left soon after that, taking a bus to Sutton to catch a tram to London station. At first he was going to go to the Leaky Cauldron to rent a room, but ,halfway there, he decided against it. Dumbledore and his merry band would find him there too easily and send him right back. He had to get away from Little Whinging though. Ever since Sirius' death his magic had been on the flux. The slightest change in emotion to the negative degree set it off to ill effected results. It wouldn't do to go before the Wizengamot and be thrown into Azkaban right now. There was a mad man after his head he needed to kill first, seesh.
He was at a lost, he didn't know where to go or what to do first. He tried to be rational and decided he needed to stay away from the wizarding world all together; however, that meant he also would be with limited cash. He needed some clothes, provisions, and a map would have been nice too. He wasn't so foolish to go to the mall though, instead he found the closest thrift store. He spent a total of ten minutes in there picking out a more sturdy and larger rucksack, some jeans, shirts and a pair of hiking boots with only spending around fifteen notes. Tossing his old clothes into a rubbish bin, he opted not to wear a hat since hiding in plain site would mean drawing less attention to himself and since the moon had taken the sun's place there was no need for it anyway.
Mixing in the crowd he located a newspaper stand, buying a travels guide book and a map.
Now he was on a train bound for Bristol. A part of him was frightened beyond belief at the suddenness of all of this. Another part of him was thrilled that he was away from the Dursley's. He needed peace, quiet and tranquility from his thoughts, but being stuck at the Dursley's in a tense atmosphere with nothing to do all day was eating at his last nerve.
He was slouched over in a seat with a table to himself. Not many people were on this train, it being well after midnight. He was reading over the travel guide again and had decided to go to the Tor in Glastonbury. He had to shake the order an was hoping by going to an obvious tourist spot that he would be missed. They would likely expect him to head to the Burrow or the smallest, deepest, pit on earth. If he was going to be on the run until September first, he needed to make damn sure he had some fun at least. This was his first time traveling somewhere other than London or school.
'I wonder if Dumbledore knows yet? I'm surprised the whole damn ministry didn't reign down on the place!' he thought absently, turning another page in his guide.
His tummy rumbled and he looked around with pink staining his cheeks.
He had forgotten dinner and barely had a lunch to begin with. The train he was on didn't serve passengers either, so he was stuck until he got to Bristol. He sighed and went back to reading his guide. An hour later the train came to a stop at River Station in the heart of Bristol.
Hopping off the train he headed off in search of a booth in order to get directions to a hostel for the night and to the Tor. Spotting one a few yards away, he came to a stop before it and set his bags down.
"Excuse me sir, erm ma'am," he stuttered.
"Yes, how can I help you? Wanting a ticket to somewhere lad?" a woman with mossy brown hair and eyes asked.
"No, unless there's a train that goes to Tor, I just need directions to a hostel and how to get to Glastonbury," he said, smiling.
"Ah, touring, you look kind of young," she said giving him a once over.
"Everyone says that, I'm 17 though." The lie slipped a little too easily from his mouth.
"Well, there's a Hostel two blocks south of here, just follow that road and you'll see a red sign on the same side as you're walking offering some food. Go in there and ask for a room. Now, to get to the Tor you will need a taxi since the busses on the route are down, old death traps they were!" she said, laughing, accepting his lie.
"Oi, wouldn't want to get caught on that then," he said laughing with her, finding the conversation enjoyable enough.
"No I wouldn't. Do you have a season pass? It would only cost ten euros for anywhere in the Bristol area."
"Oh no, I don't know if I'll be staying around this area for long…" Harry said, brow tensing.
"Ah, well there's another pass that's good for a year, cost six euros. Limited to this train only though," she explained.
"Yeah, sure," he said, yawning.
She turned to grab a card and placed it in some machine.
"Here ya go, just sign your name to the back, six euros please," she said a few moments later.
Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out a few notes and cents. "Hey, is there a clothing or book store around here?"
"Yeah, the same street you're walking down. Just walk another block down and you'll see all the stores."
"Thanks ma'am," he said taking his pass, picking up his bags and turning to the exit.
Just as the woman said, a red sign was found outside a four story building. Walking through the open door covered in beads, he was hit by the striking yellow and red paint on the walls and the tacky black and white checkered style floor. It was an odd little place, but the smells coming from the kitchen were divine.
"Welcome to Sal's Famous Pizzeria! Come in, come in and take a seat," a thin man wearing a white tank top, black slacks, shiny black shoes and apron that read 'Sal' said.
Slightly surprised anyone was serving at this hour he took a seat near the front counter.
"What would you be liking? Some spaghetti or maybe a nice slice of Sal's Special Pizza?"
"Eh, pizza and any soda, er, do you have a room?" Harry asked.
"Of course, Martha!" he shouted as he stalked off behind the counter.
The sounds of an argument in another language were heard and then clanking of pots.
"It'll be ready in twenty minutes. There's a room up on the second floor if you'll follow me," the man said as he came back from behind the counter.
Harry nodded and stood up. "How much for a night?"
"Ah…five euros and with the pizza, you were only wanting a few slices right, it'll be twenty euros in all. Oh, by the way, how rude of me, eh? Name's Sal Malduchette."
"Oh, no worries, I'm Harry…" he said, just stopping himself from saying his last name.
Sal raised a thick brow at him. "Harry has a last name? Can't be having trouble up in here. Built this place from scratch so long ago that you could probably taste the years in the air."
"Err, no, I mean I'm no trouble, just trying to get a place to stay the night." Harry said quickly.
"Alright, well follow me." Sal said in a drawling tone.
Harry followed the eccentric man around a corner and up a flight of stairs. Different sounds of telly stations could be heard playing loudly.
"Now the room you're getting ain't got no telly or a phone. If you want that, bum it off one the people who's been here for a while. There's a bed, clean sheets, window, no bugs and a light. Not Buckingham, but damn good compared to other places around here," Sal said as he opened the door to room 16 and showed him around.
"Thank you, sir. Um here's your money," Harry said, offering the taller man the notes.
"Ah, being a kid, I miss thoughs days. It ain't my or anyone else's money until it reaches my or their hands. Gots lots to learn kid." He chuckled, taking the notes. "Now, it's my money. I'll bring that pizza and drink up when it's done, gotta keep in fighting shape."
When Sal closed the door behind himself, Harry flopped down on the bed to find that it didn't feel as bad as he thought it would. It felt a hell of a lot better than any mattress at the Dursley's and that was a fact.
'Strange man,' Harry thought, thinking about Sal.
He pictured the man being some kind of war vet living out the rest of his days by entertaining people. Harry hoped he'd be as lucky, minus the entertaining part…for a long while anyway.
Sitting up, he leaned back against the wall behind the bed and reached for his backpack. Taking out his travel guide, map and a pen he flipped to the back of his travel book and opened his map to outline and circle this place. If he were to travel here again he'd defiantly pay a visit, even if it were just to hear Sal and his eccentric comments.
"Knock, knock kid, you decent?" came a voice from the other side of the door.
"Yeah, come on in!" Harry shouted.
Sal came in with more than pizza on the plate and some soda.
"Wife saw you walking up the stares and says you're too skinny. Eat up or feed what you can't to the birds or she'll be upset with me." Sal said, placing the food on the bed. "Ah, traveling? You should go to the Tor, kids these days miss out of such things like that." he said.
Harry was nearly drooling at the sight on the plate. Seemed like Sal's wife had fixed him some leftovers from the lunch special, parmesan baked chicken with white sauce and egg noodles. Harry dove in like a starving man, taking Sal by surprise.
"That stuff won't help a growing lad much, less you eat it on a regular basis and work ya know," Sal said grinning.
Harry looked up and had enough sense to look bashful. "Sorry, haven't eaten a lot today and missed dinner."
"Ah, well no harm. Seconds are on the house."
"Thank you," Harry said around a mouthful before swallowing, "Know any other places I should visit? I've got until the first of September to tour."
"School eh, I forgot to ask how old you were," Sal said whilst rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.
"Eh, I'm 17."
"Oh, well perfect. Hmm, there's a lot of places around here to visit besides the Tor.."
After an hour and two more helpings of the chicken, Sal left for the night with Harry thanking him for everything. Harry wondered if Sal was that hospitable to everyone or if it was just him. Harry just didn't know how much of a peoples person he really was, being called a freak and having others discouraged from talking to him didn't help his thoughts much either.
Turning in for the night facing the window he couldn't help but smile into his sleep despite the darkening clouds in his mind.
The next morning he woke around 10 a.m. Sal had been to his room, slipping a note under the door telling him about the communal bath down the hall. After taking a quick shower with borrowed soap from Martha, Sal's wife, he packed his things up and went down stairs to order half a pizza pie to go.
"There's a traveling store down the road, about five or six doors, I forget these things in my old age," Martha said. She was a plump woman with long, thick, wavy black hair and large almond shaped eyes.
Sal came behind her and gave her a hug, "My dear you are the youngest older woman I've ever laid my eyes on."
"Oh, Sal," she chuckled, turning to give him a peck on the cheek before walking off to the kitchen.
"Harry, my friend, you'd be lucky to ever find a person like Martha. She's a spit fire, but ya gotta love her!" Sal announced, sounding like a love sick teen.
Harry laughed at their antics, he never really thought about dating or finding love. Sure, he was hung up by Cho not four months ago, but that was four months ago and that wasn't love. It was silly teenage lust.
"Thank you both, and ma'am your food is wonderful!" Harry said.
And it was true, Martha's food was as good as Mrs. Weasley's, maybe even better. He didn't know, Mrs. Weasley never made parmesan chicken or pizza.
"There you go, some pizza to go and something from today's lunch special and a few sweets. Come back soon and tell us about your travels! Tell your friends about us too!" Martha said.
"Of course, thanks again and I'll be seeing you guys again." Harry said as he walked over to the beaded entrance.
Sal and Martha waved, smiling at him, and he exited the little pizza joint with pleasant thoughts.
Finding the stores were easy enough. The book store came first and he bought a book on society along with a few, thin books on various educational subjects. Hogwarts didn't offer muggle subjects besides Muggle Studies and that class was a joke, worse than History of Magic. The books were cheap enough since they were slightly outdated. He was lucky they didn't take up more space in his ever growing rucksacks. Next was the travel store Martha had talked about. Inside it he found and bought some cheap toiletries, a larger leather bounded wallet, a small first aid kit and a tent with a matching fold up chair and sleeping mat. The last store was just a little corner store where he bought some candy bars, mints, fruit bars and drinks.
He hailed a taxi and gave his destination. To pass the time, he pulled out a book called The Eco Journey, a journal about ecology, and started reading it as he answered the odd question or two the driver would throw over his shoulder.
"You'll be wanting to rent a bike my friend. Many places to ride to and some you can only get to by riding. It's either that or foot," the taxi driver chuckled.
Around noon time the cabbie announced they were entering Glastonbury. Harry marked his page and looked out the taxi window at the trees passing by and the sunny little town.
"I always enjoy a ride here, very peaceful," the driver commented.
"I wish I hadn't been reading, it looks liked it would have been an enjoyable sight," Harry said, looking out the rear view mirror at the distant valleys.
"Yes, well, where do you want me to take you?" the cabbie asked.
Harry bit his lip in puzzlement. "Is there a park or a market place around here? I'd like to eat some lunch."
"Sure is," the cabbie said, turning in his seat to look at Harry in the rear view mirror, "there's different spots to sit in the Somerset levels, a market place and some café's on High Street. You should really head to the tourist office to get yourself some local maps and what not."
"Well could you take me there first then to one of the café's? How much do I owe you?"
"Hmm, tally meter says twenty-seven euros and fifty two cents so far."
"What's your name if you don't mind?" Harry asked.
"No problem, Darrell Jones, my fine sir," Darrel said, waving a free chocolate skinned arm in an amused gesture.
Harry chuckled and said, "Well thank you very much for the ride and advice Darrell."
"The pleasure was mine."
Another hour passed, down a hundred euros and given directions to areas he should visit in or around the surrounding areas in Glastonbury, Harry had settled down for lunch, snacking on some of Sal's Special Pizza. He laughed out right around his mouthful of pizza, getting mirthful looks from other patrons. He had really done it this time; he could imagine a miniature Hermione harping on in him in his mind.
It looked like he would be staying here for a while, it was a large enough town, but still small and obvious enough to over look. The order wouldn't find him unless he had tracking spells on him, but he highly doubted they were still intact after the whole ministry thing and the meeting in the Headmasters' office. Hell, they probably thought he was still in London! For all he cared, they could continue thinking that.
Swallowing his mouthful he went back to reading the new maps he had picked up at the tourist office and began marking down possible places to visit.
"We could petition the Wizengamot for the restrictions on the decree to be lifted temporally and have one of the higher Healers who is a legilimens to…"
A man snorted harshly and said, "No, those Ministry fat cats will shoot it down in seconds and then go home to gloat about it to their wives or someone whom will listen!"
"We have to do something! We have absolutely nothing to go on, but more people come in every day at various stages and are getting worse by the hour!"
There was a tense silence before a cursing voice bellowed, "Don't you understand! This is something that we cannot handle. We need outside help and the Ministry won't do a damn thing about it. This could be the damn pandemic that puts us all in, but they won't lift a finger. Oh, but wait until on of them is stricken. They'd be all for the illegal use of mind magic then!"
"King, get a hold of yourself. I understand your frustration, but I'm on your side here."
King sighed as he turned in his seat.
"I know you are ,Anders, and I apologize, but damn it, this makes my blood boil! They have blocked every attempt of ours to do anything about this and have hounded the media to keep their mouths shut. I think for the first time ever I wished that Skeeter chick was here and 'overheard' us."
Anders walked around the desk smoothly and patted King on the shoulder.
"Healer King, I think we may have to go against our oaths."
Kings cinnamon eyes widened a fraction of a meter. "Do you mean…"
"I have a friend within the ranks of Hit Wizards, she'd be…more than willing to help us."
End Chapter. July 13, 2009, 7 pages.
Next Time: Glastonbury! Saying goodbye at Pilgrims Trail and trouble in the little 'ole ministry.